How She Spends Her Nights
by a.l.russo
Summary: Just a little e/o... its basically about how Olivia spends her nights... I tried a new writing technique, so tell me if you like it! Hope everyone's New Year was happy and healthy!


She woke up, her breathing hard and her sweat cold as it ran rapidly down her forehead. Her hazel eyes scanned the darkness, and shivers were sent down her spine when all she could imagine in front of her was Harris. "Light, I need light," she muttered nervously to herself, and quickly jumping out from underneath her sheets from her couch, she ran to her window and pressed half of her face against the cool glass. She closed her eyes, and took in the light from the city as she hid beneath her eyelids. Her palms were also pressed against the window, and slowly, they bent and slid down to the sill.

She opened her eyes, quickly observing the city in a few short moments. "You're pathetic, Benson," she muttered to herself, and pulled away from the window. She walked over to her kitchen counter, being afraid of even the sound of her feet against the floor. She sat down on her stool, and buried her head in her hands. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, but she wasn't able to conjure both. The only thing that came out of her mouth was the simple word in a form of a whimper: "Elliot," She wasn't surprised that he was the first thing that came to her mind. This had happened before, when she tried to sleep to sleep in her own bed. The shock of his name coming from her mouth had caused her to jump out from underneath the uncomforting sheets. "Elliot, where the hell are you?" She asked aloud in the dark, still, deafening silence. She ran her fingers through her hair, the tips of her fingers absently massaging her scalp.

She tried to let her mind drift to normal, un-abused-women type thoughts. Had I done the laundry yet? Where did I last see my fleece jacket? Michael Bublé; is he actually straight, or is he gay? But Michael was a man's name, and the only man she really knew was…

Three quick knocks came at her door. Her eyes glanced over to the clock on the stove; 2 A.M. For the first time the entire night, she let a coy smile creep onto her lips. She didn't have to be a detective to know who it was. Quickly walking over to the door, she swung it open and took in the sight that played out in front of her. Of course it was him, but something was wrong… he had a black eye.

"Oh, El," she said slowly, pulling him closer and grabbing him gently by his chin. "What happened?"

"Kathy," he breathed, his tone sounded like it was blanketed with guilt and shame. "She threw an alarm clock at me. I couldn't deflect it in time." His picturesque slate-blue eyes darted to the ground, and a flash of anger passed in them. Looking back up to her, the anger completely melted, and shame and guilt took over once more. He walked over and placed his jacket on the her stool.

_"Can you read him? I know you're good at that." She had once asked Alec, her other partner and amazing people-reader._

_"Psh," she responded, rolling her ice-blue eyes and smiling. "Like a book."_

_"Then what is he saying?" She asked; she was desperate._

_Alec looked at Olivia for a moment, her face solemn with a hint of smugness. Although she was young, she was very gifted and very in-tune with everyone around her. "You'll find out soon enough." _

She frowned slightly at the sight of his eye. "You poor thing," she muttered. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the kitchen; at first she felt his knees buckle at the two holding each other's hands, but he seemed to quickly get over it and follow her into her petite kitchen.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he sat down on her stool. Getting an ice-pack from the refrigerator and wrapping it up delicately in a paper towel, she handed it to him and sat down opposite of him. She leaned on her elbows for support of her head. "So you didn't get much sleep, huh?" She asked him, casually, and cleared her throat to hide the scratchiness from the crying she had done previous.

He shook his head, and said, "No. And you? You seemed fully awake at the door."

She shrugged, and said, "Well, everyone on the force does."

He shook his head. "Not Alec. She almost ripped my head off when I tried to bring her back in the office at 3:00 A.M." He was hoping to get a smile out of her, and as he said this, a shy one appeared.

"She's not a morning person," She muttered, speaking from the corner of her mouth.

They both fell in silence after that; she began drawing tiny circles on her counter with her pointer finger, and she felt his eyes on her. She looked up though, when she felt that feeling dramatically leave. "What is it?" She asked quickly, but not in a sharp manner.

"You're still on your couch?" Sadness blanketed his tone, and then his eyes filled with guilt once more.

"Well, yeah…" she stammered, those two words being the first she could think of. She watched as he absently circled her sleeping space, and even in the darkness she saw him smirk, soberly.

"Liv—" he started.

"I know, I know," she responded quickly, cutting him off and throwing her hands up half way in the air. "But," she sighed, and shook her head. She kept it down as she said, "It's not a bed. That's all I really care about." She sat down on top of the sheets that layered the couch, letting her mind wander to things that she had been trying to block out for months.

He sat down next to her, rubbing her back. "Do you want me to leave?" He asked, softly and innocently. He figured that if she needed her space, he'd give it to her, and see her Monday.

"No," she said firmly. "No, please don't leave." She added in a whisper-like tone. The last thing she needed was for him to leave her, when, to be honest, he was the only reason why she hadn't just given up yet. On work, on society…. On life.

"Okay, I won't leave, I promise." He clutched her hand that rested on her lap, and looked back at her eyes; they were beginning to pool.

She shook her head, as if to shake off the tears. "I'm so fucked up," she spoke, "I just wish that…. That it never happened." She tried to control her breathing, to make it sound normal, but she knew that he knew her too well to know that she was headed for a break down.

He pulled her closer to him, and she placed her head on his shoulder. "Liv," was all he could think of. Her wonderful, beautiful, name that once had a sort of lightness and pure sense of stability was now the sense of darkness, secrets, and fragileness. At the thought, he wrapped her entirely in his arms.

She knew that she had changed. She wasn't the girl who used to to grab a beer with before going home, or stay after to work with a partner. No, she had changed into the girl who went home and kept the lights off because she believed she didn't deserve them.

"Olivia," he spoke again, his tone more serious. "What happened, is what happened, and it really hurts me to say that." She placed her hand on his forearm that wrapped around her. He continued, "But there will always be people who will help you get through it." He brought her chin up, so she could look directly at him. "Even if it means taking their whole life just to make sure that you will be happy."

For the first time in months, she smiled fully at her partner. "El," she began slowly, but was cut off, for he had kissed her. It was a brief kiss, almost like a test trial to see how she would react. When he tried to pull away, her hands slipped out from underneath his arms, and she pulled his head to hers.

They found themselves in a passionate embrace. She had always wanted him, and he for her, but they never expected the actual day to come. Kathy was always the issue, and no matter how she worked around her, she could never get past his wife. He had five children; she couldn't wreck that for them. But she wanted her partner _so _badly. So much so, that she was willing to give up everything she had for him.

She blinked twice, and found herself alone in her kitchen, with her head still in her hands. Snapping her eyes up, she looked around in the darkness; his jacket wasn't on her stool, her ice-pack wasn't on the counter… but most importantly, _he_ wasn't there. She began to wonder, was this a cruel trick from God? Although she half-believed in Him (for she was a Deist), she thought even more, hasn't He already put me through enough?

As she smirked and shook her head, her phone, resting on the counter next to her, buzzed three times; a text. Opening it, she squinted her eyes and took a moment for them to adjust to the light. Once they did, she saw that the text was from Elliot:

Go to sleep. If anything happens or if you just want to talk, call me. I'll have my phone on.  --El. P.S., Try the bed. I hear it's more comfortable after sleeping on a couch for six months. Trust me on this one.

She couldn't help but tear up a bit; knowing him, it took him at least an hour to type all of that out. Because Alec and Casey had taught her some tricks, she responded more quickly, by saying:

Thanks, I'll most likely call. But… I'm not going near the bed unless you're here with me. Thanks anyways. –Liv

After sending it, she sat at her counter for a minute or so, studying the design that was displayed on it. Even as a small child, she always thought that the sculptors had intentionally sculpted pictures and letters into their design, as if sending subliminal messaging. The people who actually cared enough to look up would do well in life, so therefore she always remembered to look up.

Three knocks fell onto the door. Not remembering to grab her gun and ask threateningly who it was, she walked over and unlocked her dead bolts. There revealed, was her partner, with a huge grin on his face. After shooting him an exhausted, look of confusion, he said happily, "I knew you would say that,"

And she couldn't help but fall into his arms, sobbing tears of relief.


End file.
